


forget before we dwell on it

by mearcats



Series: home is wherever i'm with you [3]
Category: ER (TV 1994)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Introspection, Namely Sam/Luka, mentions of other relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 12:16:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18365840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mearcats/pseuds/mearcats
Summary: After Damages (11x02), Abby decides shehasto move past her feelings for Luka.





	forget before we dwell on it

**Author's Note:**

> I had to take a bit of a break from We Part, and this angsty one-shot's been calling to me for a while. So yes, it's a chronicle of Abby's (ultimately unsuccessful, bless) attempt to put up walls between her and Luka for her own sake. There's lots of angst but at least we know how their story ends, right? And shout out to B, who did a quick proof-reading!

Abby closes the door behind her, groaning internally at the mess of Neela’s blankets on her couch. She’s both relieved and upset that no one is here with her, that she’s alone at last. Neela’s going with Tesoro to the border at least, so there’s no one to hear her sigh echo throughout the living room as heads into the kitchen.

Pulling a carton of orange juice from the fridge, she carries it with her and sinks down onto the couch. She just needs to put on something mindless. Or maybe it would be better to put on something deep and cerebral that won’t let her think about today.

It’s not that it was a bad day. In some ways, Abby knows she did a good thing, something amazing she’ll rarely get to do. She saved a girl’s life, took her away from the people hurting her, and sent her back to her parents. That has to count for something.

But then she clenches her fist around the remote, remembering the dismissal in Luka’s voice during their brief argument after their—her—patient died on the table.

He’s never spoken to her like that, not really. She knows he can be brusque, she’s seen it with other students, doctors, and nurses. But her? Never, not until tonight.

She reaches up to clutch at her chest as she chokes back a sob. Maybe she’s been fooling herself into thinking they still have a chance. He’s with Sam, she shouldn’t dare assume anything—if only she can convince her traitor heart of that.

The thing is, Luka was  _hers_  for so long, even when they weren’t together. She’s not enough of an idiot to pretend that he wouldn’t have come to her in an instant if she’d asked, even when she was with Carter. And now she’s the one on the outside looking in, pining over him while he’s with someone else.

Abby is surprised it’s lasted this long, but maybe...maybe Luka’s finally found what he was looking for with someone who didn’t take so long to realize how wonderful he is.

She aches, the memory of Chuny telling her he was dead an ever-present wound, even after she learned he was alive. In one moment, her world had come to a screeching halt as she had realized she loved him—as truly, madly, and deeply as the songs said—only after he was dead and she’d never see him again. The frantic few days of nearly non-stop work over the following days had culminated in Kerry sending her home with an order to sleep and not come back until she’d slept at least twelve hours, a feat she’d only managed when Susan had called to let her know that Luka was alive. He was sick and weak, but alive.

She wipes at the tears on her cheeks. Huh, she’s crying. Abby thinks wistfully of wine, wishing she could have just one glass, anything that would numb her to everything she’s feeling now. It’s just...a year ago, she’d had such  _hope_. As soon as Luka had come back from Africa, that spark between them had kindled again. If it had ever gone out. (Gillian might have been there, but Abby knew she was temporary. In her way, Abby’s even grateful to her.) She’d been sure, so sure, that they were on their way back to each other, even if it took time. It was fine, she could wait.

She’s still not sure what had happened. Was it Carter’s return? Sam’s arrival? It hadn’t seemed like it, and the connection between them had been there as recently as her graduation a few weeks ago. Things seemed to be falling apart between him and Sam, even as he’d reconnected with Abby as they comforted Carter in the wake of his and Kem’s loss. The way Luka had looked at her, reached out to touch her arm, had been electrifying.

That’s just it—she’s been assuming he and Sam are a fling, as impermanent as her dalliance with Motorcycle Guy Mike. Maybe she’s wrong, she thinks, doubt clawing at her.

She’ll respect their relationship, of course. She likes Sam, even if they aren’t exactly pals. She just...likes Luka more, so much more.

But maybe Luka’s tired of her now, even as a friend. It certainly seems like it. Abby knows he has to be professional as an attending, but he’s different now. Crisp. Brusque, almost to the point of rudeness. He’d waved her concerns aside with no more than a “this is how it is now,” and maybe she just has to accept that.

If he’s drawing this line between them—for Sam, for professionalism, or maybe just being done with her wishy-washiness—she’ll abide by it, stay on her side. Maybe his solicitousness before was just him looking out for her as a med student, and she’s on her own now.

She can do that. She is, after all, independent to a fault, if her exes, Luka included, are to be believed.

The trouble with self-awareness is that she knows this doesn’t mean it’s over for her, she thinks with a rueful sigh. But at least it’s something. She can fake being fine until she is.

And unless he indicates otherwise, Abby will put the distance between her and Luka that he seems to want. He’s looked out for her for so long; she can do the same for him now. No more offers for coffee runs, no more texting to check up on how he’s doing after a rough shift. She can keep it professional. She has other friends, Neela and Carter included. Even Kerry. Hell, maybe she can even pick up a hobby.

Taking a deep breath, she heads to the bathroom and starts running the water for a bath. She’ll be fine tomorrow, as self-contained as can be, but for tonight...she can give herself a chance to mourn and mope.

But starting tomorrow, she’s done. She has to be.


End file.
